


On the Market

by Kankri



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, Grocery Shopping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kankri/pseuds/Kankri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gideon can be hard to get on with sometimes, but Dipper has found a comfortable way to deal with his lacking sense of humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Market

**Author's Note:**

> This is a few months old and I still haven't proof read it, but I do love this still, so here it is. Take the Dipeon.

Fifteen minutes ago, **_fifteen_** , Gideon decided to push our cart into the frozen section, despite my advice that he go ahead and get other stuff and let me do it. And now, fifteen minutes later, he’s still standing here in front of the freezers, staring at the variety of, you know, disgusting frozen food like somehow, these boxes’ll stop being chock full of the disgustingly over-processed, cheap knock off excuse for meat if he stands there long enough. 

Like, I’ve been standing here so long I actually got tired of _standing_ , and resorted to just kind of laying over the handle of the cart, and right about now, it’s starting to feel like my ribs are deformed or something. I’ve organized everything in the cart three times over. First I just kind of jimmied everything into an organized stack that kind of fit like a jigsaw puzzle, and then I decided it looked bad and went by color coding, and that didn’t kill enough time so now it’s pretty much all in alphabetical order, and **_here we are_**. Daylight’s wasting (figuratively; it’s kind of way past sunset), and my boyfriend can’t get it together long enough to get out of the damned TV dinners section. 

“ How do people _eat_ this? ” 

He sounds so disgustingly indignant that, despite everything, I kind of laugh and stand myself up to lean over his shoulder – he’s still _so damned tiny_ – and take a peek at the box he’s currently holding in front of himself as if it’s something someone wrote to purposefully offend him. It’s a salisbury steak, and hoooo boy. After one bad run - in with a frozen, precooked salisbury steak, you never go back. _Ever_. 

I must make a face right along with him, because when he looks up from the box, his expression screws up into something that’s clearly torn between that stupid little gigglesnort of his, and his clear, overwhelming distaste for attempting to live the life of the adult he thinks he is. That only makes me laugh again, and I have to drop my head on his shoulder, because like Hell this cart is gonna support me – and he smacks me in the back of the head with the stupid TV dinner before shrugging me off and cramming it back in with everything else. 

“ Yeah, hee - larious. Where would we be if I wasn’t subjected tuh realizin’ not alla y'all understand how cookin’ works. ” He rolls his eyes, and finally he moves forward, grabbing the front of the cart, and he pulls hard enough to slide it right out from under the foot I had resting on that bottom bar. He doesn’t seem to notice my stumble, but he’s so damned observant after he lost sight in his left eye, I wouldn’t doubt that he saw it before I even registered it was happening. 

And so we end up walking in silence, and I just sort of watch random products pass us by – condiments and bread, sauces and canned soup. Gideon’s the one with the money, even if it isn’t much, so I don’t really argue with him on what we do or don’t get. He usually figures it out. (Mostly, the food is for me. He complains that I’m not eating well enough, like he’s one to talk or something, and then he nitpicks me until I tell him that if he doesn’t like it, he may as well shop **_for me_** , and well. Here we are. But I mean, sometimes he eats at my place, sooo.) 

“ This budgetin’ thing is by far one uh the worst things y'all’ve put me through yet, ” and while he gripes like a big, fussy snob, he goes about pulling down two boxes of cereal, and he compares them with the most scrutinizing expression anyone will ever see someone give some boxes of cereal. Pretty sure he’s comparing the name brand to the generic. He’s done this at least four times already. 

“ Man, just get, like. Frosted Flakes or something, those are always cheap. And come on, who doesn’t love Frosted Flakes? They’re gr– ” 

“ Say it, an’ I’m leavin’. ” He sets the boxes back on the shelf, then turns to glower at me. (I always find myself fixated on that mess of color in his left eye now, despite his self - consciousness over it. The different shades of blue are extremely noticeable, and almost look green. Beautiful.) 

“ Leaving, like … you’re walking out of the store finally, Pork Chop, or leaving like I’m gonna be making dinner for one on our anniversary? Because I mean, my options are limited, and this is kind of a deciding factor for me, sooo … ? ” 

“ Which one shuts yer ass up? ” 

He has this stupid way of pursing his lips and twisting them upwards to one side and I literally can’t help but grin every single time he does it, because he only does it when he’s the only one pissed off anyway. It’s ridiculous. But then again, _he’s_ pretty ridiculous. But because I love him (I guess five years together kind of does that to you, and apparently everything in regards of how immature it is to hold a grudge a literal decade later over something as pointless as ‘a nine year old spied on us’ or whatever is kind of dumb– _don’t point out my logic flaws here_ ), I just reach past him and grab the box, and rattle it in his face. 

“ Two bucks and this’ll probably last us a week at the very least. ” 

He swipes the box, and goes to toss it in the cart, only to pause, then to consider before he shuffles things around in the cart; he places it in what is its rightful place according to the alphabet, and gives me a bland look that I’ve come to learn is kind of his way of saying something akin to, _I don’t know why I humor your stupid ass, but you better consider yourself a lucky asshole._

My boyfriend is a blessing sometimes. Standing here at the end of the agreement to do the grocery shopping at damn well eleven at night, because this is when I prefer to go. Standing here looking like he regrets ever asking me to date him those years ago – and yet managing, somehow, to do it in the most perfect way, that one that tells me no matter how much regret there _seems_ to be, he’s happy. 

With a rather involuntary and automatic grin, I push the cart a few paces forward, and since the aisle is otherwise empty when we’re discredited … I lean over the cart handle again, and I give him a little kiss right quick on the mouth. He grins, I can feel it, but it’s gone by the time I stand up again. 

“ Love you, Babe. Now, let’s go get those chocolates you like. I think we can splurge a little bit tonight; it won’t hurt too much. ” And the quiet, but content, hum of approval as Gideon takes my hand? That is what makes all of this worth it. 


End file.
